


This is Just a Modern Rock Song

by Stella_Delilah



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Bookstore AU, Bookstores, Bucky Barnes Fluff, Bucky Barnes-centric, Dating, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexpot Steve Rogers, Steve is too sexy for his own good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_Delilah/pseuds/Stella_Delilah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stucky Bookstore AU--</p><p>Bucky and Natasha own a bookstore in Framlingham, Suffolk. Everything is fine until a certain illustration student walks into the store one day and turns Bucky's world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Just a Modern Rock Song

**Author's Note:**

> I read a fic once where the author said that there weren't enough coffeeshop AUs for Stucky. I agreed, and this started off as a coffeeshop fic. But the thought of Bucky all cozy with a book in his hands was too cute to pass up. I'm going to add another chapter to this, probably tomorrow. 
> 
> The title is from "This is just a modern rock song" by Belle & Sebastian. I kept playing it over and over as I wrote this.

The thing about working in a bookstore is that everyone is nice. The customers are always nice, they smile and greet you when they enter. The workers are nice, they’re just as excited about books as the customers, and twice as eager to please.

And Bucky likes it. He likes seeing little kids in the corner poring over books like their lives depend on it, and teens giggling over their selection of classics. It’s nice. And everyone is minding their own business, but they wouldn’t mind taking some time to help you with yours. He thinks that’s nice too.

After the war, Bucky was a mess. He’d lost his arm in the war, lost contact with his family (which was more his fault than theirs, honestly) and lost his hope in the future. Even though the army had given a fancy new prosthetic that was stronger than his original hand had been, it didn’t fix the rest of his life. There wasn’t any point, he’d thought. His best friend, Natasha, found him choking down pills in his apartment and pulled him over the toilet. She spent the next hour making him vomit them up. Bucky thanks his lucky stars for her every day, because after that things got better.

Natasha had forced him to accompany her to England, where she was going to take over an old bookstore for her friend Nick in a small town in Suffolk, called Framlingham. At first, Bucky’s just there to help Nat get settled, to stay off the pills, and get her groceries. But before long, he’s managing the organization, handling the cash register while she deals with shipments in the back, and all-around managing the daily operations. So by then, Natasha has to call him manager, and then she decides that he should be on the lease.

So now they’re co-owners and Bucky is just fine with that.  He had somehow ended up building some savings and even had a little spending money, although he had no idea what to spend it on. He’s an owner. And of a bookstore, no less. The name may be a bit strange (Fury’s, which gets a lot of looks and questions from mythology and folklore buffs). He can honestly say that it’s the best damn job he’s ever had.

And so here he is, shelving books in their little brownstone store and directing customers to where they can find different series. He has the whole spiel down by now: Yes ma’am, children’s and juvenile books are on the first floor and teen is in the back room over there. No, you’ll have to go up the stairs for the adult books and horror. Thank you, have a good day.

While it’s just him and Natasha for the most part, there’s a little hallway that connects the bookstore to the building next door, and the people over there have a coffeeshop that they let customers drift in and out of. It’s quaint, and Bucky likes that he’ll see some kids come in, go up the stairs to get a coffee, and then head right back down the stairs again to get their book and curl up in an armchair. It’s cozy, and something about the store feels right.

It’s a Tuesday that everything changes. Bucky is coming down from his apartment on the third floor, heading toward the back of the shop, when he sees him. And he promptly dives behind a tower of books, which is obviously the correct response when you see the most gorgeous model of a man walking into the store that you own.

“Bucky. What the fuck are you doing?” Peggy asks from above him, and for a minute he’s not sure what to respond because there are three little girls sitting by the bookshelf and watching him with unveiled curiosity. And damn it all if Bucky’s about to pour his heart out in front of 9-year olds.

He shakes his head at her instead, looking up at her as she climbs down from her ladder. He’s glad that they’re near the back of the store, by the huge window, rather than the front where it’s open.

            “Oi, you lot. What are you doing back here in the teen romances? Go up front where your parents can see what you’re reading.” Peggy snaps at the children, but with a smile. The girls titter as they hurry back to the front, leaving their age-inappropriate books behind. All of the kids are used to Peggy’s brisk but kind attitude around the store. She’s a staple in the store, so it was about time that they started paying her to be there.

With the children gone, Peggy turned her attention back to Bucky. He’s pushing his hair back into a bun again, a nervous habit.

            “Alright, secret agent, would you like to explain what’s going on now?” She asks, hands on her hips like she’s interrogating him. Bucky wouldn’t put it past her to do just that, she’s very good at making him come forth with information.

            “The guy who just walked in.” Bucky sighs. Peggy glances up at the mirror in the back of the store that reflects the whole store. (People don’t usually steal from bookstores, it’s hard to fit an entire book into your backpack without someone noticing that you didn’t buy it. Plus it’s not like they don’t make enough in a month to miss a book or two that went to someone who couldn’t afford it.)

            “Blonde, little, with the huge sun hat?”

            Bucky nods.

            “Yeah, what about him? You know him?” She asks. Bucky shakes his head.

            “No, but did you see him?” Peggy stares and Bucky sighs. He’s obviously got to get through to her what the issue is. “He’s gorgeous, Peggy.” Peggy looks up into the mirror again, really looks, and then shrugs and nods in agreement.

            “Yes, but I’m still a bit lost on why that means you have to duck and roll to the back of the store to avoid him?” Bucky blinks, and then opens his mouth to answer before a deep voice interrupts them.

            “Um, I’m sorry but—um…” Peggy’s eyes widen as she looks behind Bucky and her mouth drops open, making Bucky turn around to see who is standing behind them.

It’s the gorgeous blonde from the front. He’s staring at them, well at Bucky, really. Bucky feels the color rising to his face as he realizes that he’s still sitting on the floor, and starts to reach for the books that the girls left on the ground, as though he were doing something besides sitting on the ground staring up at Peggy. Peggy, who happens to be wearing a flared skirt. Now Bucky looks like a lazy bum AND a pervert.

 _Way to make a first impression,_ he thinks to himself as he forces himself to meet the man’s eyes, book in one hand.

            Peggy speaks first. “How can we help you?” She smiles.

His forehead is hidden behind bangs and his sun hat, and he clutching his bag close to himself as though to cover his slight body. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He says, his cheeks flushing pink. Bucky has to bite down on his tongue at the sound of that voice. It’s deeper than one would think, given by how small the man is, but it’s deep and smooth as milk and honey.

            The model opens his mouth to speak again. “Um, where can I find adult thrillers?” He says softly, and Bucky is staring at his lips, fully aware that he’s still looking back and forth between him and Peggy. The man’s eyes flick to Bucky’s metal arm, exposed in his t-shirt, but then back up to his face.

            “Yeah, Barnes here can show you were that is. Right?” Bucky looks toward her accusingly, but she’s just smiling sweetly at the customer and totally ignoring him.

            “Of course I can.” He grins toothily at the beauty, who gives a little smile of his own. Sweet Jesus. His eyes are a beautiful sky blue, and his lips are full, almost too full for his small face. He has cheekbones that seem like their sculpted out of marble, but somehow his beautiful face fits his small frame. Bucky can’t breathe while he’s staring at him, so he turns away and heads toward the stairs. Steve follows behind him like a puppy dog, his white sneakers making soft sounds against the wood floors.

            “So your name is Barnes?” Bucky almost chokes on his spit at the sound of Steve’s voice again but he just smiles back at him as they reach the stairs.

            “No, I’m Bucky. My last name is Barnes. Well, my first name is James actually.” The other man’s brow furrows and his mouth forms a confused little pout, which scrambles Bucky’s mind even more, which is probably why he keeps talking. “I mean, my middle name is Buchanan, my mom’s maiden name.” He chuckles lightly. The small man just nods, and keeps following him up the stairs. For whatever damn reason, Bucky can’t seem to shut up, so he keeps talking.

            “So Bucky comes from Buchanan. That’s why I go by Bucky, because Jamie doesn’t really fit, you know? And I hate James, so yeah. Bucky.” He stops talking and practically sprints over to where the thrillers and mysteries are.

 _Wow, could you have made a huger fool of yourself, Barnes?_ Natasha’s voice rings in his head.

Bucky points at the three rows of shelves on the left side of the second floor. “Here you go,” he says awkwardly. The smaller man is still looking at him, smiling softly. He walks forward to look closer at the shelves and then looks back at Bucky.

“Thanks Bucky.”

“No problem. Um, what’s- what’s your name?”

The blue eyed angel looks down quickly and his eyelashes cast shadows across his pink cheeks, making them look even longer. His fingers are drumming on his bag strap, as though he’s contemplating something. Good God, the Lord really took his time on this one.

“Steve.” The man decides, simply, as though he’s making up for Bucky’s rambles about names earlier. Bucky nods and swallows, and Steve is smiling at him with crinkled eyes, his lashes seeming so long and dark, his lips crooked in a small smirk and Jesus, Bucky needs to go to work before his mind goes to other places with those lips….

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Steve.” Bucky nods again, for no fucking reason, and literally runs down the stairs.

 

            “It was the most embarrassing encounter of my entire fucking life, Nat.” Bucky sighs against the table as they eat dinner in their loft. Nat just laughs at him and hands him another slice of garlic bread.

The third floor of the bookstore is a lofted apartment, with three bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms. One is just a toilet and a sink, with a showerhead against the wall. Bucky only uses it as a shower if Nat is taking an extraordinarily long time in the full bathroom, but it’s definitely clean. They use the third bedroom both for storage and as a guest room, though Natasha has more guests than Bucky. It’s quaint and quiet, the perfect size for the two of them.

            “I don’t think you made yourself look as bad as you think you did.” Natasha says, twirling her fork around her spaghetti as she talks. She looks at him pointedly and slides a small folded piece of paper across the table.

            “What’s this?” Bucky asks, grabbing at it. Natasha just raises her eyebrows and picks up her plate to head toward the couch. “Hey, Nat!” Bucky says again, but she doesn’t even look at him. Instead, she grabs at the bottle opener and opens a bottle of Sprite and turns on the TV. Since Natasha is completely ignoring him, Bucky unfolds the piece of paper and decides it can’t hurt to read whatever it is. His heart stops.

The note only says a number, and a name. Steve Rogers.

Bucky is in his room with his plate and his own soda only seconds later. Once he’s picked up the phone, he hesitates. Should he call? Or should he just text Steve? But he really wants to hear Steve’s voice again. But he also doesn’t want to scare Steve off. The options go round and round in Bucky’s mind for a solid four minutes, and on the fifth minute, he types in Steve’s number and presses ‘call’.

            “Hello?”

Shit. Steve answers on the third ring.

            “Um, hi. Is this Steve Rogers?” Bucky has never stuttered in his damn life, and now he’s done it twice in front of the most beautiful man on the planet.

            “Yes it is, may I ask who’s calling?” Steve sounds like all business and slight apprehension. Bucky draws in a breath before speaking again.

            “Hey, it’s Bucky. From the bookstore. From Fury’s.” He’s talking too much again, he needs to shut up—

            “Oh right. James Buchanan Barnes, right? Did I remember that correctly?” Bucky can hear the laugh in Steve’s voice, so he knows that he’s speaking in jest, but his face flushes anyway. His name also sounds damn good in Steve’s mouth. Something else would be damn good in Steve’s mouth….

            “Yes,” He laughs a bit, moving his fork around in his spaghetti. “That’s me. How are you doing?”

            “I’m pretty good. I missed my train, so I’ve only just gotten back to my apartment though.” Steve sounds like he’s stretching, and Bucky lets himself relax.

            “Oh really? Where do you live that you need to take a train?” He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. It’s not normal to ask a stranger where they live, even if they gave you their number.

            “I’m studying at the University Campus Suffolk, at the main campus. In Ipswich.” Steve answers, sounding like he’s laying back in bed.

            “Oh, cool.” Bucky says lamely. He doesn’t know much about that college, but he knows that a couple of the students come by on the train on weekends.  Framlingham is a favorite of anybody in Suffolk.  That’s when he realizes something about Steve.

            “You have an American accent!” He didn’t mean for it to come out so accusingly, but Steve just laughs lightly over the phone and Bucky’s heart squeezes.

            “I would hope so. I’m from Brooklyn.”

            “Hey! So am I!” Bucky says, stuffing a bite of spaghetti into his mouth. Steve makes a little surprised sound on the other end and sounds like he’s moving around.

            “That’s actually really cool, Buck. Hey, do you mind if I put you on speaker? I’m trying to finish a painting right now too.” Bucky nods, then realizes that Steve can’t see him.

            “Sure thing, Stevie. Is that what you study at Suffolk? Painting?”

            Steve makes a soft huffing sound over the line and Bucky smiles to himself.

            “Is that my nickname now? Stevie?” Bucky stops for a moment, but then recognizes that Steve is joking.

            “Yeah, I’d say so. You already called me Buck and that’s not the same thing as Bucky.” He says, spearing a meatball in half.

            “I’m okay with Stevie if you’re alright with Buck.” Bucky can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and he imagines it too. It makes him smile around the food in his mouth. “And no, I’m not studying painting. I’m studying graphic illustration. I want to be an illustrator and stuff. I’ve already done a couple of books.” Steve says it nonchalantly, but Bucky’s already impressed. Steve is obviously going places.

            “Wow. So what are you doing slumming around in Framlingham?” He says, meaning for it to sound like a joke, but he sounds slightly bitter to his own ears. Steve doesn’t quite seem to notice, but he does pause.

            “I like the town. And someone from school told me that if I wanted cheaper priced books I should check out Fury’s. The staff wasn’t so bad either, so that’s cool.” Bucky’s heart rate increases. He decides that maybe he should change the subject before he outright asks Steve to go to bed with him.

            “So why did you choose Suffolk? What, your parents wanted to get you out of Brooklyn?”

            Steve pauses again. “My folks are actually both gone. I don’t really have any family, so there wasn’t much tying me back to the States but my hometown.”

Bucky’s heart drops. He’s an idiot. In fact, he’s an idiotic jerk.

            “Wow Stevie. I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that.” He stops, unsure of what to say. Steve doesn’t speak right away either, so Bucky continues. “That sucks.”

Steve laughs outright at that, and Bucky sighs audibly.

            “Yeah, it does. But I mean, my mom died when I was a teenager and then I lived with some neighbors before college, so I’m okay. What about you, what’s up with your family situation? Do you have family in Framlingham?”

Bucky pushes his plate away and drums his fingers against his leg with his metal hand. Fuck it, he thinks.

            “I was in the army. I was in Afghanistan, and then in Iraq. My arm got blown off by a grenade that was thrown into our camp, and I was honorably discharged.” Bucky takes a breath, both to steel himself for the next words and to let Steve stop him. Steve is silent except for his breathing and some slight rustling, so Bucky continues.

            “I was a mess. I got a metal arm from some stupid company that specializes in high-tech prosthetics and I got pension, but I didn’t have anything else. As far as I was concerned, I couldn’t go back to my ma and my sister, so I took a bunch of pills and waited.” Steve gasped then, and Bucky forced himself to continue.

            “I mean, Natasha found me- she’s the other owner of the shop, the redhead- and she made me come to England with her. So I’ve been here ever since. Oh, and my arm is really strong now. Like, it’s got extra reflexes in it and stuff.” He finally stops, waiting for Steve to say something else. “That’s my whole story.”

Steve is quiet for a few more seconds before he lets out an awkward chuckle.

            “Well, I’m glad that you trusted me enough to tell me all of this.” Steve sounds cautious as he speaks the words. “And I noticed your arm in the store, I thought it was really cool, actually.”

            “Thanks.” Bucky smiles and he thinks he can hear Steve smile too.

            “Hey, um, what time does the store close on weekends?”

            Bucky thinks for a moment. “Um, Fridays and Saturdays we close at 4.”

Steve clears his throat.

            “Um, would you want to go out for dinner with me? This Friday? I was only in Framlingham for a day because my classes end early on Tuesdays.”

Bucky answers him, and although they set up a time to meet in front of a little local restaurant in Framlingham at 6, they stay on the phone for another hour. By the end of it, Bucky has decided that he more than wants to sleep with Steve. He wants to date Steve.

Their first date goes swimmingly, and Steve only asks to touch Bucky’s arm once. When he walks Steve back to the train station, Steve’s leftover meat pie in a box in his arms, Steve grabs Bucky’s good hand. Bucky kisses him on the platform, and Steve smiles before saying goodnight. When he gets a text later, something about how he’s eating his pie cold, it’s so good, he knows that Steve is something special.

Their second date is in Framlingham again. Bucky introduces Steve to Natasha officially, and Steve eats in their apartment with them. Bucky makes dinner for everyone, and when Steve is gone, she tells him that Steve’s a good choice. By their third date, when Steve meets Bucky at a museum in Ipswich, they’re officially dating.

It’s about a month and a half in, on a Saturday, when Steve takes him to Dovercourt Bay, borrowing his friend Sam’s car to pick up Bucky and drive them to the beach. It’s about an hour, but Steve is talking a mile a minute about the sweet little beach, and how Bucky will love it.

            “Oh shit!” Steve says suddenly, and Bucky sits upright in his seat immediately, his arm going up as though to protect Steve from some unseen accident. Steve laughs and Bucky puts his arm down, but Steve continues. “Um, can you get your arm wet? Your metal one?”

            Then it’s Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, Stevie, I can. It’d be a downright shame if I couldn’t even shower with my own arm, wouldn’t it?” Steve flushes and Bucky can’t help but notice how damn pretty it looks.

            “I don’t know! I mean, I assumed but…” Steve trails off, and he turns an even deeper shade of red. Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, and Steve’s eyes flutter for a minute and he smiles shyly.

            “You’re so damn pretty, you know that, Stevie?” Steve sputters for a minute, and then responds by turning up the radio. Bucky hears his own laugh over the music.

            They arrive around noon, with Steve’s sunblock and picnic basket, plus a blanket all in Bucky’s arms. Steve is digging through a bag for something.

            “What are you looking for, babe?” Bucky asks, and the pet name is out of his mouth before he even realizes. Steve pulls something out of his bag and holds it up to his mouth, pressing down on the top and breathing in deeply. After doing it twice, and watching Bucky’s concerned face the entire time, Steve sighs and stuffs it back in the bag.

            “It’s my inhaler. For my asthma, remember?” Bucky nods quickly, he remembers.

            “But why did you need to take it right now?”

            Steve shrugs and doesn’t look at him, grabbing the rest of their items. “I always take it if I’m going to be doing physical activity.” Bucky doesn’t ask, he just follows Steve to the sand.

            Dovercourt is sort of hidden, and they’re one of three groups of people at the beach. Steve leads Bucky to a spot below some dunes, near the tall grasses that crabs like to hide in. He lays down the blanket and sits on it, beckoning Bucky forward. Bucky immediately goes to him, and Steve’s kisses make his head spin.

            The whole day has Steve grinning and splashing, while Bucky tries to catch him beneath the waves. Part of Bucky is afraid that Steve might get swept away into the water, he’s so small, but the other part of Bucky wants to haul him over his shoulder back into the sand and just kiss him until the day is done.

            It’s almost 7 when Steve drives them back.

            “Hey Stevie?”

            Steve smiles in response. “Yeah Buck?”

            “You know, it’ll be about 45 minutes until we get to Ipswich. And another half an hour to get to Framlingham.” Bucky says slowly. Steve nods, his brow furrowing like it does when he’s confused.

            “Yes. That’s correct.” He says, eyes on the road. Bucky lets out his breath in a whoosh.

            “I was thinking—I mean if you’re up to it, that maybe I- Maybe I could stay-“ Steve grips the wheel a bit harder and Bucky says it in a rush.

            “Maybe I could stay over tonight so you don’t have to drop me off at home first and then come back.”

            Steve doesn’t look at him when he answers. “You could also just take the train back.”

            “Oh.” Bucky hadn’t thought of that, and it shows. But then he sees Steve’s mouth twitching up in the corner.

            “Of course you can stay over, Bucky.” Steve says softly, and he sneaks a glance over at the other man before reaching over to pat his hand. “I was wondering when you’d ask, after all.”

            Bucky stares at Steve, but Steve isn’t looking. Then he smiles, more to himself.

            “I love you,” He thinks, but it comes out, “You damn punk.”

            Steve kisses him, but it comes in the form of a shallow punch to his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> They're gonna fuck in the next chapter.


End file.
